For Each Lifetime
by Miratriarch
Summary: Boruto and Sarada were beings of light and shadow. One brought life and the other brought death. They were opposites, but their love for each other was mutual. Too bad that the curse that befell them was harsh enough to remind them of their love's prize for each lifetime. / Written for borusara week 2019


**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_REUPLOAD with the right format this time, because yesterday was so wrong asdfghjkl_

_My entry for BoruSara week (albeit late, I know) with all prompts used at some point_

_You all can check our Twitter borusara_week19 and our Tumblr borusarafics for more awesome borusara content that was created for this week. Enjoy 3_

* * *

**_ONE_**

_He is an angel that brings life. She is a demon that torments souls._

_He is cheerful and mischievous. She is strict and oppressive._

_He bathes himself in nectar. She bathes herself in blood._

_His songs make flowers bloom from the Clouds of Heaven. Hers make ghosts rise out of Mother Earth._

_Boruto lives in a place full of light, where rivers are as clear as crystals and the fields smell like roses. Sarada lives in constant darkness, where the rivers are made of walking corpses and the fields smell like death._

_When they first connect, it is in a place between sky and hell. His hands trail across her back and his lips find her neck to caress it lovingly. The melody they make; a song so beautiful it can rival the muses of the Holy Rivers._

_And yet that is the only thing they remember each other by. They share one heart, one core, one pair of broken wings. They share one night—lit with fire, and love, and passion, just like the first one—for each year up until they vanished, bearing with them the curse of promiscuity, their tragedy recorded only in lost ancient books._

. . . . .

He grasped her hand in his, and she laughed. Instantly, the night brightened tenfold, and Boruto could not help but laugh back.

They finally ran.

They fought clouds.

They would always continue to love.

* * *

_**TWO**_

"They sent in a letter with a messenger bird, Your Majesty," Boruto informed the King, causing him to immediately send out the signal for the palace guards to rush inside the chambers, their katanas in the ready.

"Tell me what does it say?" The King inquired.

Boruto nodded and unfolded the small paper. The writing was messy, so much so that it reminded him of his own writing when he was but a small kid. Nevertheless, he steadied his voice and read out loud. It's a short message, really: _We want one thousand Jade pieces. Bring it to us, or we'll have our fun with her __beautiful__ Highness_-Boruto resisted the urge to crumble the paper in his fist-_and send her back to you as roasted meat._

_Do not mock us pirates and don't try and trick us either. You have time until the full moon._

The King snatched the paper from his hands and ripped it to the tiniest pieces possible. His face radiated nothing but pure rage and the Queen was not looking any better, either. They both looked worried, and angry, and fearful that their only child might be suffering in the hands of… of some nameless pirates.

Boruto balled his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into his palm. He gritted his teeth. It's his fault. He was supposed to be her bodyguard, her right-hand man. Boruto didn't understand how the King wasn't ordering their butcher to chop off his head for this colossal failure.

The King's adviser soon entered and bowed, his actual concerns could be smelled from far away.

"Your Majesty, if you comply with their requests and deplete the riches, the people will revolt."

"Then let them have our heads." The Queen slammed her palm on the table. "For my daughter, I will chop my own head if necessary."

"But, Your Majesty, you don't-"

"Enough!" The King ordered and threw his gaze pointedly at Boruto. He was quick to avert his gaze to the floor.

The King looked like he was fuming silently as he relented. "And you," Boruto flinched, "Pull yourself together and bring my daughter here safe and sound."

Boruto's eyes widened and his hand tightened around his own katana hanging loosely in the sash around his waist. Those words were pretty simple, but enough to wake Boruto out of his pitiful state.

"I will. I promise that in my life."

. . .

Maybe he shouldn't have promised them anything. Maybe Their Majesties shouldn't have entrusted the life of their most precious treasure to him.

It should've been someone else, someone stronger, someone smarter. Anyone else but him.

To think that those bastards had wanted him instead. Her Highness' kidnapping had been just a cover-up all along.

Boruto entered the dark cottage and there she was, held by two large, bulky men, that made Boruto want to puke at their sight alone.

Their leader was there, too. Boruto knew that man, a long time ago, but he'd never thought, not even once, that this man still held a grudge against him.

"Don't do a stupidity, Shizuma," Boruto warned and the addressed man sneered a laugh.

"How about you don't tell me what to do, old friend," he says. "Drop your katana."

"Boruto, don't. They want to kill you." Sarada shouted as she tried feebly to push the men off of her. But Boruto didn't obey her. Not when her life was in danger. He tossed the katana to Shizuma's legs and the moment the other man bent down to pick it up, Boruto tried his luck.

He kicked him with his leg across the back of his head, such a hard kick that had Shizuma drop unconscious on the dirty floor.

Witnessing their leader like this, the bulky men loosened their hold on Sarada by a lot and Boruto rushed forward, punching and kicking and putting his training to good use.

Sarada escaped their hold, she was going to be free.

"Boruto! Look out!"

Boruto had barely enough time to turn around and return the warm and wet hug that had embraced him whole. Suddenly, a sharp pain registered just above his stomach and he looked down, meeting Sarada's gaze.

Blood dribbled from her mouth and her cheeks soaked themselves with fresh tears.

"Y-you bastard. Die!"

Boruto and Sarada dropped on their knees together, a painful groan escaping them from their mouths. Their gazes, however, always stood in one place alone. Locked onto each other's familiar eyes.

They remembered the first time they held hands, their time racing each other on the backs of their horses, or sparring against each other for fun.

Boruto's katana-the katana that Sarada had gifted to him was gluing them to each other on those moments.

Boruto and Sarada embraced each other tightly, hearing the sound of their flesh being ripped as the katana pushed through them at the movement. They dropped to the ground, Sarada's head resting on Boruto's forearm.

Just like they'd done the first time, even this time around, Boruto and Sarada vanished from the world, their story never to be mentioned again.

* * *

**_THREE_**

"_These are times of peace now," the Hokage said, waving happily at the cheerful crowd. "We, the Five Kage, will try our best to keep it that way for many years to come."_

How short-lived those words were. If only Lord Seventh had known this, would he have said them? If Sarada had known this, would she have wished to become Hokage one day, to succeed this pillar of a man, to have her face crafted skillfully alongside the faces of the heroes of Konoha.

Old habits die hard, they say. Old wishes die hard as well. No, she did not regret wishing to become Hokage, even though she always wakes up to the whispers of a friend who had promised her he'd be her right-hand and be by her side wherever she went, like a strong shadow.

Except that now, that shadow is way stronger, way louder, and very much haunting her for all those years.

Sarada looked up at the sky, eyes softening at the white clouds dancing happily among the clear blue sky and slightly hiding the blinding light of the Sun. Wind blew in her face, causing her white cloak to flow behind. She brought up a hand to hold her hat steady just in case it fell off even though the chances were unlikely.

Today it was an anniversary, but not one where the village had anything to celebrate about. Ten years ago there had been nothing but tears and blood shed upon the grounds and fields.

The village had been rebuilt. The Hokage Monument had been reconstructed and now there were nine faces up there, even though the first seven had already passed away.

It would've been expected for the first four, since they had not been alive when Sarada was born, but the other three… that day took them all away one by one.

She jumped up from her office's balcony and onto the top of Lord Seventh's head statue and looked down at the village, _her village._

Suddenly, the scenery changed and she was small again. By her left side stood Boruto, and on Boruto's left stood the other member of their team, Mitsuki. Boruto looked at the young version of Sarada and grinned.

"**Don't worry,"** he said, his voice like an echo blown around by the wind and dancing with the leaves. **"When you become hokage, I will be your right-hand man. I'll guard you well."**

Sarada didn't bother to wipe her tears away.

* * *

**_FOUR_**

Sarada's arm had been itching for quite some time now, so much so that she was able to see the red blood dribbling out after a few ferocious scratches her nails make in her skin.

Though she wasn't able to see colors, she knew that blood was red. Her mother had told her so, for she had not only been able to find her soulmate, but she'd also married him, too.

Sarada was a product of love and she took such great pride and joy in it. But she was in her twenties now, and she had yet to find colors in her life.

Her friend Chocho often gushed about how beautiful the butterflies were. She'd found her soulmate in the form of her family's doctor, Dr. Mitsuki. She told her his eyes were the color of Gold, but Sarada didn't know what color that was. She only saw his eyes in a light gray, but shining nonetheless.

When she was little, she was curious as to what color her hair was, and her eyes. Papa had told her they were the same as his, black, but all she could see was white and black and gray so what was the difference anyway.

It's in a March night, three days before her twenty-fifth birthday, when she first felt the itch in her arms.

_Hello, _the words appeared and left to give way to other words.

_I would ask who you are, but I don't think it's appropriate._

_I haven't met you yet... There are no colors, you see._

Sarada took in a breath. So there were two of them.

_Can you talk?_ She thought her eyes were deceiving her. _My name is Boruto._

Sarada couldn't believe her soulmate had a name, which is stupid because everybody has a name but that was beside the point.

**I haven't met you either,** Sarada wrote.

_Bummer… Can I know your name? Sorry if I'm being too blunt. It's not my intention to make you uncomfortable._

Sarada chuckled. **Sarada.**

_You're a vegan?_

Sarada rolled her eyes. Not that again.

**Very funny. Did you laugh at your own joke?**

_Hey, don't be so mean. I was just joking._

**Well two can play at this game, Mr. Bolt.**

_Hahahahaha. Thank you for humoring me this sad night._

**Is something wrong?** She asked, but truth be told, she didn't know if she wanted him to answer her. Soulmate or not, this Boruto was still a complete stranger to her.

_I turned twenty-five today._ Sarada blinked. Their birthdays were so close. But… why would his birthday be a sad day? She can't help but ask him that.

**Why are you sad? Is it because you have yet to meet me? **After some thought, she added, **I'm the same. Turning twenty-five in three days.**

_Oh! I will write you to congratulate you, then. Don't worry._

Was he evading the question?

_I got engaged._

Sarada's breath stabbed her in the chest, if that was possible somehow. She had just _found_ her soulmate, and he tells her he was to marry someone else. Would he really condemn himself like this? Then again, a soulmate is not always your fated spouse, so it wasn't uncommon. But still… this one sentence, this one action was to condemn three undeserving people… four, if she ever decided to marry someone she would come to love with time.

_I'm sorry,_ he writes more. _I've always thought I would marry my soulmate like my parents did to each other. Funny story…_

**I'm the same. My parents…**

_My parents were brought together by an arranged marriage too. Except that when they met they understood they were soulmates… funny, right?_

**Mm. Lucky.**

_Extremely._

**Have you met her? **Sarada glares at the flashing letters she just finished crafting in her skin.

_Yeah._

...

…

Did he… _Do you like her?_

She regretted it instantly, sending him this message. She threw a glance toward the windows of her room, dark blue curtains shielding the night's sky from her view. At the drawer by her right side stood the lit candles that told her that she would not be able to write for long, or rather would not be able to see what Boruto wrote to her for long.

_Yes, actually._ He had written back. Sarada didn't feel anything as she read that.

_She's a nice girl. She makes me feel at ease._

Despite it all, Sarada found herself smiling.

**I'm relieved.** She wrote, a genuine warmth welling up in her.

_You are?_

Sarada nodded her head before reminding herself that she was alone in her room and he couldn't see her.

**Did you not expect me to be?**

_No…? dunno... dunno what I was expecting to be honest. I'm feeling relieved too, now._

**It's late,** she told him, before he could have a chance to write more. **I need to sleep. Have a good night.**

She was about to blow up the candles before glancing at her arm one more time, just in case. Nothing new had appeared.

Sarada sighed. **And happy birthday.**

Sarada kept her mouth shut the next morning. And the next one, and the next. Come her birthday, she invited Chocho and Mitsuki over, as well as some other friends. She turned twenty-five… lucky her.

The celebration was simple yet she was surrounded by so much love and warmth despite the cold night of March's last day.

Sarada wore a red dress, but despite all of Aunt Ino's efforts, they could not get her to wear a corset. Nope, the laces were enough. Her long hair was tied up in a bun, and a few curly bangs had deliberately fallen to her sides. A red ribbon was tied around her head as well.

The meals were something to look forward to. The meat, the salad, the cake. She and her mother had graciously baked the sweetest strawberry cake to date. It melted beautifully the moment it hit their tongue, causing all of them to moan softly at the taste.

She even shared a few strong drinks and cheers and, to everyone's surprise, found out that Mitsuki was by far the lightest weight among all of them, hence why he and Chocho had to leave earlier than they had planned.

Once inside her bedroom, Sarada lit the candle standing on her drawer even though she had no intention of doing anything but resting. When her arm started itching however, she immediately shot upwards, resting her back in her pillows.

_Happy birthday,_ Boruto had written. It was short, and self-explanatory, and… and way more than what Sarada had hoped from him.

**Thank you,** Sarada wrote back. And waited.

And waited.

Waited but nothing else was typed, not even a 'Goodnight!' She blew off the candle and tried to sleep, too overwhelmed by the fact that Boruto hadn't typed anything more.

Boruto didn't type anything for the upcoming weeks, and Sarada decided to shrug it off. If she wasn't willing to start a conversation then maybe it went both ways for them.

One day, while she was at the marketplace, she bumped shoulders with a tall man with a weird haircut that reminded Sarada of a rooster.

"Sor—" Sarada began only to be interrupted by the stranger.

"Watch where you're going."

Well, that took a weird turn.

Sarada raised an eyebrow. "Oh, forgive me, sir. I did not know such a man could be so fragile."

Said man glared at her, and she glared right back.

"Kawaki," a man with equally-weird haircut called out to him. "Come. We'll be late to meet with the Uchihas."

Sarada stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening. It was later that day that she learned who the guy was.

She could not believe her grandfather would do this to her, even if in itself, an arranged marriage wasn't at all that uncommon.

This man, Kawaki, was to be her spouse.

When he apologized to her, saying that he was feeling extremely agitated on the road, Sarada forgave him, thinking that she'd made a quick judgement without stopping and try to relate.

It was also the first night when she wrote to Boruto for the first time. She told him that she got engaged and he took his sweet time to respond with a simple congratulations, telling her that his wedding day was fast approaching and that had been the reason why he hadn't talked with her.

Sarada wanted nothing more than to rush her own wedding after reading that.

She'd go on some dates with her new fiance. Trying to know him better was a task she had sworn to see through.

He wasn't your typical gentleman anyhow. With his western origins and rooster-like haircut it was impossible for him not to stand out… or rather, for _them _not to stand out.

One time, they held hands, and Sarada did not feel the urge to regress her hand back.

Once, he gifted her a rose, saying that he's heard somewhere they had a red color, but he couldn't be sure what color that was. They knew they weren't each other's soulmates after all.

About a week before their marriage, they shared a kiss, so gentle and awkward, Sarada couldn't help but burst into giggles, much to Kawaki's frustration.

"I've never kissed anyone before, okay!" He pouted, making it unable for Sarada to stop herself from poking his cheek.

The night before her marriage, she sat down at the edge of her bed, candle lit as always. Releasing a breath that had been stuck in her throat, she drew her thumb near her arm and wrote.

**How are you?** It felt weird.

**Are you busy?**

Not a minute passed — even though to her it felt like an hour — when Boruto typed back.

_Sarada, hi!_

_No, I'm not. I sent Sumire back to her parents for a visit today._

Sarada's eyes widened.

**Sumire?**

_Uhmm! My wife's name. Haha. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Lots of things have happened lately._

Sarada took in the information with a shudder that ran all over her body. It was always like this with her soulmate. New things with every time they chatted.

**I'm marrying Kawaki tomorrow, **she wrote. **I wanted you to know.**

This time, the wait was longer, and Sarada wondered if Boruto was ignoring her altogether.

_Oh! Congrats!_ It felt so disheartened. _He better treat you right or else I'll break his arms._

Sarada chuckled. **He will or else I will be the one breaking his arms.**

_Good to know._

**Yes. So is this a goodnight?**

_Yeah. It has to be late. I missed this a bit._

Sarada missed it, too.

_Goodnight, Sarada._

Sarada looked at the simple message. Goodnight, Sarada.

**Goodnight, Boruto.**

A tear fell from her eye, much to her surprise. Why was she crying for anyway? It wasn't as if she will be unhappy. Kawaki made her happy, and she was sure that there was a spark between them. So, why? Why would she be crying now?

With a frustrated sigh, she blew off the candle flame and went to sleep, her dreams generating the looks of a person she had never met before and all the colors he brought in her life.

Boruto was the one who wrote first next time. She was sitting on a chair on the veranda, a tea cup beside the table. She was to give birth in six weeks time and was thinking of ways they can name the child. If Sarada were to give birth to a girl, she'd name her—

The itch on her arm jolted her away from her thoughts roughly. She immediately brought it up and read the very incoherent scribbling of her soulmate.

_Sarada, Sarada, Sarada, I became a father. Oh my God, Sarada, I became a father._

There was a glint of surprise in her face, something that was gone the next second. She smiled gently, even though there was no one to see it.

**Congratulations, Boruto.**

_He's so tiny, Sarada. If only you could see it. If only_

If only? If only, what? Before she had a chance to ask him, however, Kawaki was by her side, hugging her from behind and kissing her cheek. In the meantime, Sarada pushed the sleeve of her dress down, covering her arm from any potential eyes, her husband's included. She never told Boruto that she was pregnant. It was the first and only secret she would keep from him.

.

.

.

Sarada had lived a long life. She'd seen her parents die, her husband and her children. All of them had left her. And every time she'd written to her soulmate all her sorrow.

At the age of eighty-three, Sarada could still walk on her two legs, but obviously needed a stick to help her. Her face was wrinkled, her hair had turned lighter, and she required glasses, too.

She'd found a bench on her morning walk and sat there, catching her breath. She'd read that grass is green, but in all her long life, she had never seen other colors but black and white; for neither she, nor her soulmate had ever bothered to seek each other out.

She looked up at the sky she knew to be blue, what ifs scenarios rushing through her mind. Her parents, her husband, her children, all of them had discovered one day that she had found her soulmate. Kawaki's sadness had showed but he never blamed her for anything. What was her fault anyway? For having a soulmate that wasn't her husband? That was normal. For never bothering to find said soulmate? That was her own fault. She had been a coward.

An old man approached her suddenly, sitting on the other side of the bench without asking permission out of her first. Sarada looked down, closing her eyes and evening her breath.

"The weather is nice today," the man said. "Perfect for a walk, don't you think so?"

Sarada didn't answer, but that didn't stop him from continuing.

"Ah, I wish I could tell my soulmate how good I'm feeling today, feeling fresh and all of that, you know!"

Sarada exhaled and turned her head to look at him back. Blue eyes met hers. Blonde hair that once must've been radiant now were pulled together in a hat that most likely protected the man from the Sun's rays. He had parallel whisker-like marks on his cheeks — Sarada thought of Boruto once telling her that his face resembled a cat's — and his choice of clothing was elegant.

He stood out, even at his old age.

She moved her gaze from him and looked at the opposite side. She smiled at the sight of a pair of red and gold-winged butterflies playing around the fresh marigold flowers of the park.

"..."

A tear rolled across her cheek and her breath shuddered. She glanced back at the man once more, finding it understandable that he was in a similar state as she was.

She had spent all her life in nothing but white and black, and yet when she finally saw the beautiful colors, she didn't even notice it.

Boruto brought a hand close to her cheek and used his thumb to wipe away her fallen tear. They released a chuckle and Sarada rested her head on his shoulder.

The wind blowing around them was soft, its scent reminding her of rich perfume scents her mother used to brew. It was but a mere whisper, she heard her deity self running and laughing, accompanied by the laughs of a man. Then the laugh turned into screams, a pain registered through her stomach, an invisible blade bathing itself in her blood.

'Ah,' Sarada thought, closing her eyes for as long as the eternity permitted her. 'The curse will continue on.'

_**To be continued...**_


End file.
